Phobia
by Anonymous Eli
Summary: Ben knows there are some things he doesn't understand about his best friend, but when Riley is hospitalized, phobias come to the forefront. Can Ben help Riley come to terms with his past?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey, everybody! Here, _finally_, is the story I promised! Just so you're aware, it contains references to my other story, _Happy Birthday?_, and explains the reasons behind Riley's biggest fears. It probably isn't necessary to read that story to understand this one, but it would be helpful.

Disclaimer: I _wish_ I owned Riley. Sadly, I only write profitless fanfiction about him.

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CHAPTER ONE

_Ben_

"I don't see why we have to go to _another_ museum-opening thingy," Riley whined, trying to work out the rather large knot he had made of his tie. "Can't they book a different pair of handsome, treasure-hunting heroes for once?"

I glanced at Riley's reflection in the mirror. The kid was wearing that expression again, the one where he looked like a pouting eight-year old. I sighed hugely. "Riley, if you still want to drive, no more complaining."

"I don't know why I ever agreed to that," Riley lamented. "Ben, you _know_ I hate these things."

"I _do_ know. Just humor me, okay?" I straightened my own tie and moved to help Riley before he accidentally—or intentionally—strangled himself. "It won't be that bad, I promise."

"Yeah, just the usual," Riley said gloomily. "Some hundred-year old, dried-up curator is going to shove us onstage and blind us with lights. We'll be stared at by the general public like we're in some kind of zoo." The sarcasm in his voice was withering.

"Something like that," I agreed. "But it'll be over pretty quick and then we can get dessert or something after, my treat."

With Riley, 'my' and 'treat' were the magic words. He perked up a little. "Okay. I guess I'd better start behaving, then, so we don't have to take _your_ car." He pretended to shudder at the idea.

"Enough about my car, okay?" I said sharply, annoyed. "Let's just get out of here before I change my mind about bringing you."

Riley frowned. "Wait. You're considering not bringing me? How do I get you to do that? Ben?"

I was already walking out of the bathroom, pulling on my suit jacket. "I'm _already_ doing it."

Riley ran to catch up. "Ben—"

"What, now you want to go?" I realized a second late how he might have taken my words. I turned to face him, judging his expression carefully. Riley had an almost petrifying fear of being unwanted, of losing my friendship. I could usually tell if I'd said something wrong just by the look on Riley's face—the way he ducked his head a little, squared his shoulders, and made his expression and eyes carefully blank. The way he tried to make it look like he didn't care. Even though he did.

Luckily, I hadn't crossed that particular line tonight. Riley just sighed. "I don't _want_ to go, but the museum booked us both. And, let's face it, you're totally lost without me. I'm the one people really come to see."

"Right," I said with a smile. "Let's not disappoint."

()()()()()()()()()()()()

_Riley_

It started out as the typical gig.

I ran the standard power point while Ben detailed our little "archaeological expeditions" (leaving out all the illegal parts, of course). Then Ben and I stood on this brightly lit platform thing while the museum curator—an old fogey, like I'd predicted—talked about the Cibola exhibit. It took all the willpower I had, and a death glare from Ben, to keep me from yawning or checking my watch. But seriously, the curator was like ancient, and sounded like his favorite hobbies were reading the dictionary and watching paint dry. He was totally monotone.

When he finally, finally finished, Ben and I were "invited" (a.k.a. _ordered_) to attend the dinner party in the adjoining room. I trailed after Ben while he talked to some important people, snagging shrimp and little cakes as the trays passed by.

"Ben," I said, when he had a free moment, "how much longer?"

Ben smiled. "Just a few more—"

He was cut off when the lights suddenly died, plunging the entire hall into blackness. My breath caught.

It was really dark, and the crowd pressed close on all sides. People were screaming.

I felt the familiar sense of panic crashing over me, and it was too late to stop it.

I had to get out of there.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

"Hey, Riley! Are you okay?"

I felt Ben's hand touch my shoulder as he crouched down beside me. _What a stupid question, Ben! _I thought, but I couldn't get the words out because I was hyperventilating. From past experience, I knew that I needed to calm myself down soon, or I was going to either throw up or pass out.

Ben seemed to recognize my predicament, because he started rubbing my back, saying, "It's okay, kid. Calm down. It's okay."

Gradually, my breathing started to slow. The blackness at the edges of my vision receded, and I closed my eyes, concentrating on holding in each breath for three seconds.

When I felt close to normal again, I felt the embarrassment creeping up on me. Had I really just lost it in front of all those people? And Ben?

I looked up into Ben's concerned face. Yep, I had.

People started to escape the hall, pouring out onto the lawn. I realized how much of a scene I was making, lying there in the grass with my best friend bending over me. It didn't help that both of us were in tuxes. I rolled over and got to my knees, which was more difficult than it should have been because I was shaking so badly.

"Hey, can you walk?" Ben asked anxiously. I must have really looked like crap.

Stubbornly, I pushed myself up. "Yeah. Been able to do it since I was one."

Ben ignored that, still looking at me with a certain amount of worry. "What just happened?"

"Nothing," I said, trying to shrug it off, but Ben was more persistent than that. After all, he _had _spent his whole life looking for a treasure that no one thought existed.

"I'm having a hard time believing that," he said. "Do you want to talk about it now, or later?"

"Neither!" I said, a bit too forcefully. "It's—it's nothing, Ben, okay?"

We stood there for a moment in silence. Ben fixed me with this intense stare, and I looked back at him, hoping that he would just leave this alone. Alone, hidden away in the corner of my mind where it belonged.

My legs started to wobble a little, and I was getting a killer headache. "Let's just go," I said, hoping I didn't sound like I was begging. But I knew I did.

Ben sighed. "You remember where we parked?"

I felt relieved beyond words. "Yeah. Between two silver cars."

"That's specific," Ben said sarcastically. Unfortunately, though he was acting pretty normal right now, the determined glint was still in his eyes. The first time I saw that look, we'd ended up going on a fun little high speed car chase with the stolen Declaration of Independence and a whole bunch of guys with guns. Great. I wondered just where we'd end up now.

"It's a Ferrari, Ben. How many other people here have bright red, convertible Spyders? If you can't find it, then you are a disgrace to your profession." I tried to make my voice sound as normal as possible, keeping both the tremor and the relief out of it. I hoped.

Ben said nothing, but simply began walking. I followed, trying to keep my knees from buckling. When I stumbled forward, Ben grabbed my arm to steady me. He made no comment, but I knew that his worry was only increasing. There was something about the way his face was carefully blank that made me sure that I was going to get the interrogation of my life soon.

Soon, but not now.

Despite his complaint, Ben found the car pretty easily. "Better let me drive," he said.

I was out of breath, and my head hurt so badly that I swore my vision was blurring. "'K," I answered shortly, dropping into the passenger's seat. It kind of surprised even me that I was giving in so easily.

Ben said nothing as he backed the car up and sped out of the parking lot. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the seat, grateful for the cool air on my face. I must have fallen asleep, because I definitely couldn't remember the rest of the car ride or stopping on the drive at Ben's house.

"Hey, come on, Riley. Get up." Ben gently tapped my shoulder, and I opened my eyes. "Let's get you inside."

"What?" I asked sleepily. Everything is so confusing when you first wake up.

Ben said nothing, just opening the door for me and offering me a hand.

"Why—I mean, this is your house, Ben." Wow. That was just about the least articulate thing I'd said all day. I got up, and the pounding headache made sure it wasn't forgotten. I groaned.

"You're starting to scare me, kid." Ben's tone made that clear, which was bad. If Ben was scared, then the world was about to end. Probably.

"Sorry," I said, walking unsteadily beside him up to the house.

"It's not your fault."

"How do you know?" I asked, almost to myself.

* * *

A/N: Hmm. I wonder what's up with Riley? Push the periwinkle button labeled "review" to find out!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so much for all the great reviews! You guys are the most amazing people ever!

Disclaimer: If I owned National Treasure, I'd be writing this stuff into the script! In other words, not mine.

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CHAPTER TWO

_Ben_

I'd hardly stepped through the door when Abigail swooped down on me. She must have heard us coming up the drive. "You're home early," she said. She arched a blonde eyebrow.

"We had a bit of trouble," I replied, turning to help Riley step up from the porch. Though he had 'don't touch me' written all over his face, I doubted he could make it on his own the way his legs were shaking.

"Oh, my—" Abigail gasped. "What happened? Riley?"

Riley groaned. "Do I really look _that_ bad?"

"Yeah, kid," I said. "Good thing your room's on the first floor. Abigail, could you go get the Advil?"

Abigail gave me a questioning look, then hurried upstairs to the medicine cabinet. I walked with Riley down the hallway into his room, and he dropped down on the bed without saying anything else. I shoved a bunch of papers off his desk chair and sat down.

Abigail returned quickly with the little white bottle and a glass of water. "Here," she said breathlessly. Riley made a face but swallowed the pills without comment.

"Could someone _please_ tell me what's going on before I go crazy?" Abigail asked.

"Too late," Riley muttered, settling down on his pillows and closing his eyes. One corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

Abigail sighed. "Obviously whatever happened hasn't affected your sense of humor."

"It's not my fault you leave me openings a mile wide. Even _Ben_ could probably get a jab in there." It was amazing how Riley could harass us both in the space of a few words. And it was _really _amazing how he could completely alter the course of a conversation to avoid talking about something. Luckily, I was well-versed in Riley Evasion Tactics.

"We're getting a little sidetracked," I pointed out. "_I_ don't even know what happened, exactly." I looked at Riley expectantly, but of course he couldn't see that with his eyes closed.

"It was _nothing_, Ben. Please, just give it a rest." Riley didn't even bother to open his eyes, but at least he was still talking. I knew he wasn't above feigning sleep if he was being _really_ stubborn.

The kid _did_ look tired, though, and I knew he'd fallen asleep on the car ride home. Tonight wasn't the right time to push him. "You're right," I told him, and Riley opened one eye in surprise. "This can wait until morning."

Riley didn't look pleased, but he took whatever concessions he could get. "Thanks."

"Will someone _please _tell me what happened?" Abigail said, looking between me and Riley.

I glanced at Riley before beginning. If he really didn't want me to tell her, I wouldn't. But he only nodded. "Go ahead. She'd get it out of you eventually anyway."

I cleared my throat, and Abigail focused on me, her face intent. The way she was scrutinizing my every expression made me almost uncomfortable. "We were at the dinner party after the lecture—"

"The _mandatory_ dinner party," Riley interrupted. "And the food was awful. You'd think a bunch of rich museum-donor type people would have some taste, but—"

"Would _you_ like to tell her?" I asked, trying not to smile.

"No, that's okay. I was just trying to give her some perspective. You sounded like you do when you give a history lecture."

"Anyway," I began again, "We were at the _mandatory_ dinner party with the _awful food_, and the power died. People panicked. It was kind of contagious." My eyes darted to Riley as I said this, and he gave me a small smile, knowing what I was trying to do. I wanted a real explanation later, of course, but it didn't have to be in front of Abigail. Riley was a very private person (though you wouldn't know it, with his sometimes incessant chatter), and I understood that even as his best friend, there were a lot of things I didn't know about him. But I knew much more than he let anyone else in on.

"And?" Abigail prompted, looking unconvinced.

"Riley's a little claustrophobic, as you know. And people were panicking, like I said—"

"And I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to get outside, away from the crowd. I felt kind of sick, and then Ben found me and convinced me not to throw up. And now I have this killer headache," Riley finished, sounding embarrassed both for her benefit and because he really was. But there was definitely something he wasn't saying.

Abigail smiled a little, sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Riley. That sounds awful."

"It was even worse than the food," he agreed, closing his eyes again.

Abigail smiled. "Do you feel any better?"

"No, but the meds should kick in soon. Thanks, Abby. 'Night."

"Goodnight," Abby said, moving towards the door. "You coming, Ben?"

"Yeah, I'll be up in a minute." My eyes didn't move from Riley's face. I heard Abigail climbing the stairs. There was a long pause as I considered what to say.

"Yes, Ben?" Riley said, without even opening his eyes.

"Are you really all right?" I asked.

Riley smiled tightly. "No, not really."

Something in his almost bitter expression pushed me to ask, "Will you be?"

He sighed. "Eventually. And no," he said, just as I was opening my mouth to ask, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. Not tonight. But you know I won't give up."

"I know. Thanks, Ben." Riley paused, and he seemed on the verge of saying something important. But all that came out was, "Goodnight."

"'Night," I replied, recognizing this as my cue to leave. As I stepped out into the hallway, I reached to flick off the light switch. But Riley's voice stopped me.

"Ben, could you just leave it on?" It was an odd request.

"Sure," I said, realizing that it was important to him. I knew he usually slept with the bathroom lights on, but considering what had happened tonight . . .

I wondered again about what exactly had occurred, and realized that it was probably one of the most important things that Riley _hadn't _told me. Did it have to do with his kidnapping, a little over two months ago? I knew he had been treated badly, but I didn't think Riley could have developed such a deep-seated phobia over just three days. The fear I had seen in his eyes tonight reminded me more of the way he had reacted when he was being loaded into the ambulance: a wild, horrified panic.

The two events were connected in some way, and I was going to find out how.

First thing in the morning.

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A/N: Will it be that easy? When Riley's involved, it rarely is! Review to find out!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! I know this is VERY late, and I apologize. Thanks so much to my wonderful reviewers; you guys are awesome!

Disclaimer: National Treasure is too awesome for me to own. I just obsess over the DVDs and write profitless fanfiction.

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CHAPTER THREE

_Riley_

When I woke up, I wished I hadn't.

For one thing, I had an absolutely _splitting_ headache. It might even have rivaled the pain of a concussion, which, as I knew from experience, was _very_ unpleasant. So much for the Advil.

Secondly, I couldn't breathe through my nose and my throat felt all tickly, which could only mean the onset of a cold. Like I wasn't miserable enough already.

And third, I remembered—in pristine detail—everything that happened last night. I considered rolling over and going back to sleep.

I could hear sounds coming from the kitchen: pans clattering around and that sort of thing. I sincerely hoped Abby wasn't trying to cook again, especially breakfast food. There's just something about looking at brown eggs and yellow hash browns that makes me queasy.

"He's still asleep?" That was Abby's voice, muffled by the walls but still distinguishable. I listened hard.

"Yeah. I'm worried about him, Abigail." Ben sounded stressed. And I felt really guilty.

"He'll be okay. I'm not going to pretend that I wasn't scared to death when you brought him back last night, but he'll get through this, Ben." _Thank you, Abigail_.

But Ben wasn't going to listen to that. "You didn't see him last night! I was watching him fall apart. I've never seen him react like that to anything." I winced. "Even in the ambulance—"

Suddenly realizing I didn't want to hear this conversation, I rolled over and covered my ears. That didn't do much for my headache, but at least I didn't have to listen to Ben worrying about me. Wasn't it bad enough that _I _was miserable?

And he'd let _Abigail_ in on it. Now I was going to be mothered to death at the same time as I was being interrogated. Super. Really, what was the point of getting out of bed? Except for that Ben's next words were, "I'm just going to go check on him."

That did it. I wasn't going to give either of them the opportunity to even contemplate thinking about worrying about me. I got up as quickly as I could and reached over to the bedside table, fumbling for my glasses. My head throbbed with my heartbeat. _Ow, ow, ow, ow . . ._

Ben knocked softly on the door. "Hey, Riley?"

I'd gone to sleep in my tux, which was probably wrinkled beyond the help of dry-cleaning, but at least I didn't have to waste time getting dressed before pulling the door open. "Yeah?"

Ben looked surprised to see me up. "I thought you were still asleep. Sorry."

"It's okay."

And then there was this long, awkward moment, which rarely ever happened with Ben and me. I coughed a little, obeying the irritating tickle in the back of my throat, and then Ben hurriedly said, "You hungry? Abby made breakfast."

"Ugh. I was, until you said the last three words." I gave him a half-smile, and he laughed a little.

"I won't tell her you said that, but she'll probably—"

"I heard you, Riley," Abby called.

"Seriously, Ben. That woman could probably hear a dog whistle . . ." Ben smiled, and I sighed, relieved. He seemed to have relaxed a little now that I was up and making jokes.

"I know. And don't worry, it's just pancakes. They're good," he reassured me.

"Okay." We walked together down the hall, my head pulsing with pain. I sat at the end of the kitchen table.

"Morning, Riley," Abigail said, a little too cheerily. She had an assessing look in her eyes as she plopped a couple chocolate-chip pancakes down on my plate. She'd made my favorite breakfast food in the history of forever, and she was actually being nice. Whoa.

"Um, yeah. Thanks, Abby." She smiled widely, and then glanced at Ben. Something passed between them in that second, and I was sure it was nothing good.

"Feeling any better?" Ben asked.

_Nope, actually I feel worse, if that's even possible. My head HURTS, I can feel a horrible cold coming on, and I am ruining a perfectly good day for you guys._

"Um," I said.

Ben's mouth tightened. I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut and rubbing my temples. _Ow, ow, ow_ . . .

"I guess that's a no," Abby said. She sat down beside me, and, before I could stop her, she felt my forehead. I was a little kid again, getting ready to be force-fed cough medicine. "Riley, you have a fever."

And then Ben was all over it, too. "You should probably get back to bed. Do you want anything?"

"Ugh, no. I'm fine," I lied. "I don't want to go back to—" I broke off coughing, which didn't help my case at all.

"Come on, Riley," Ben said, his serious eyes locked with mine. "You look like you could use a few more hours of sleep."

"No! Just leave me alone, okay?! I'm _fine_." My voice was way louder than I intended, and it hurt my head. When was the last time I'd yelled at Ben like that? Maybe never.

Ben looked shocked, like I'd just hit him in the stomach. Abigail bit her lip.

I sighed, rubbing my head again. "I'm sorry. I'm just . . . I don't even know. Sorry. I didn't mean to yell like that."

"It's okay," Ben said. "You're sick. You had a rough night last night."

I nodded. "Sure, whatever." I stood up, pushing my chair in. I let Ben walk back down the hall with me, even though it wasn't even remotely necessary. "Look, I really am sorry," I said.

"I know," Ben answered, without looking at me.

Why did he have to be so perfectly understanding? It made it almost impossible to hide anything from him.

"It's just that I wish you guys wouldn't worry so much over me," I said truthfully. "I'm ruining a perfectly good day."

"_Now_ who's got a guilt complex?" Ben asked, reminding me of an earlier conversation. "Seriously, Riley, don't be stupid. You're my best friend. I'm entitled to worry about you if I so choose."

"Yeah, but you don't have to walk me to my room and tuck me in," I pointed out. I coughed again, and the blood pounded painfully in my head.

"Sure I do. You wouldn't do it yourself."

"True."

"And just think: it could be worse. _Abigail_ could be tucking you in." Ben smiled.

"Also true," I said, and the tension between us eased.

"_I heard that_!" Abby called.

Ben and I just exchanged a glance.

* * *

A/N: Hmm. No cliffie. Not to worry: the story (and cliffhangers) pick up soon. Please review and tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry about the slow update. This time it wasn't my fault! The vestiges of Hurricane Ike took out my power for five days. That meant cold showers, non-perishable food, and no fanfiction.

Thanks again to all my wonderful reviewers. You guys make writing this story by candlelight totally worth it :)

Disclaimer: Is there anyone who doesn't get this by now? National Treasure is not mine.

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CHAPTER FOUR

_Ben_

Riley had fallen asleep on the couch again.

I'd gone into the kitchen to grab him another glass of water, and when I came back, he was asleep. It took him literally thirty seconds to go from "Ben, I'm thirsty" to total oblivion.

Ordinarily, I would have thought that was funny. But Riley had been sleeping _so much_ lately that it was beginning to scare me.

I sat down in the winged chair beside the sofa, setting the glass down on the end table. The TV was on, with the volume down so that it was barely audible. I smiled a little when I saw that Riley'd been watching cartoons. The old Technicolor ones.

Then I sighed, looking at Riley himself. He was wrapped up in blankets, and his face was flushed and sweaty. I could hear his ragged breathing.

The kid had had a fever all week, and his cough had gotten worse. I was all for taking him to the doctor, but of course he insisted it was nothing. It took all my coaxing and persuading just to get him to take cold medicine and ibuprofen. And Abigail . . .

Riley had told her that if she tried to mother him _one more time_, he'd take a kitchen knife to the Boston tea tables. I laughed quietly to myself, remembering her expression.

Suddenly, Riley started coughing. At first, it was just a dry and quiet sound, but it quickly turned into painful, deep hacking. Riley started awake, sitting partway up and groaning around coughs. I quickly handed him the glass of water, but he shook his head and kept coughing, rubbing his chest.

Finally, the spasm let up, and he slumped back down, squeezing his eyes shut. I sat down beside him on the couch, laying a hand on his shoulder in silent support. I hated being unable to help him, and I wished he was less stubborn. It he would just let me take him to the doctor . . .

But I knew that not all of this was about stubbornness. I could see the vague fear in his eyes every time I mentioned taking him to the hospital, and I wasn't about to force him to go. I don't think I _could_ have. At least not yet. The _second_ this got worse, we would be in the car en route to the nearest clinic. Whether he was knocked out by cold medicine or not was his decision.

"Um, Ben?" Riley asked, pulling me out of my thoughts, "Do you think I can have that water now?"

I almost winced at the sound of his voice, hoarse and grating, and handed him the cup. "Sorry," I said.

Riley waved that off, draining all the water in the glass and giving it back. Then he lay back down and shut his eyes again, shivering even under all the blankets.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, concerned.

I was prepared for him to deny that anything was even wrong. But the words that came out of his mouth were, "I feel horrible."

A statement like that, coming from Riley, was extremely significant. "Riley . . ." I began, but he cut me off.

"Don't say it, Ben. I don't want to go to the doc—" He broke off coughing, and his face turned red as he gasped for breath. This spasm was worse than the last, and I could see the pain of it in his face.

I quickly moved behind him, rubbing his back. When the coughs finally let up, his head dropped down onto my shoulder. I could feel the burning heat of his skin through my shirt. "Riley," I said again, "If you would just—"

"No," he said, and even I couldn't argue with the finality in his voice. He shivered again, pulling the blankets closer. "This is just a stupid cold."

I really doubted that, but I let it slide, knowing that arguing would get us nowhere. "Do you need anything else?"

"It's cold in here," Riley murmured, closing his eyes.

I'd already turned up the thermostat for his sake, and it most definitely wasn't cold in the house. But he was still shivering. "Okay. I'll get another blanket. I think Abigail's just done the wash."

I tried to stand, but Riley didn't move to let me up. Belatedly, I realized he'd fallen asleep again. That was probably only ten seconds. A new record.

He was really starting to scare me.

()()()()()()()()()()()

_Riley_

Ben and I were arguing again.

"Riley, you're getting worse. If you would _just let me_—"

"I can't," I whispered. I couldn't make my voice any louder than that, but I hoped he got the intensity behind it. The man got most things.

"Can't or won't?" Ben asked, almost shouting.

I flinched, closing my eyes as pain stabbed through my chest. "Can't. Ben, you don't get it."

"I would if you'd tell me!" Ben was definitely furious now. I usually wasn't on the receiving end of his anger, and I must say it wasn't pleasant. _Scary_ was a better way to put it, actually.

I started coughing, and the horrible ache tore my lungs apart again. I doubled over. Abigail rubbed my back. "Ben, stop it," she snapped.

I swallowed painfully. "Thanks, Abbs," I whispered.

Abigail's eyes flashed. "I'm not agreeing with you, Riley. I think you're being an idiot. But you two don't have to fight."

Ben let out a frustrated sigh. "Riley, I'm really worried about you. I've never seen anyone so sick. You sleep all the time, and you've had a fever for a week and a half. I'm _not_ letting this get any worse."

"I'm fine," I lied. But my own breathing betrayed me. We could all hear the rattling in my lungs, and it was true that I was too tired to do anything but sleep most of the time.

Anything was better than the alternative, though. I was terrified at even the idea of getting dragged to the hospital. I doubted I could hold myself together in there. _You're not doing too great right now, either_, the little voice in the back of my head informed me. _I know_, I thought.

"Riley, please." Ben's eyes weren't filled with anger or determination anymore. They were pleading. "You're scaring me."

I blinked. Had Ben, my best friend, Benjamin Franklin Gates, just admitted that he was _scared_? I swallowed.

I knew that I was sick. Really sick. And if Ben was that worried about me . . .

I shut my eyes. "Okay," I whispered. Terror was trying to take hold of me, but I shoved it away. For Ben. "Tomorrow. I'll let you."

Ben was silent for a moment, and then he passed a hand over his eyes. "Thank you. It'll be fine, I promise."

I remembered the last time, two and a half months ago, and closed my eyes. "Yeah."

"I promise," Ben said again.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

_Ben_

I woke up in the middle of the night, and, for one groggy, half-asleep moment, I was confused. The glaring red digits of my alarm clock announced that it was 2:36 am.

_What the heck?_

What reason did I have for waking up so late—or early? Abigail wasn't stealing the covers or snoring, and I wasn't thirsty or anything. So what—?

"Ben!" The call wasn't loud, but I heard it very clearly. _Riley_.

I was out of bed before I had consciously decided to get up. A hundred different images were flashing through my head, none of them pleasant.

"Ben . . ." The voice broke off into coughing, and then that sputtered into nothing. I took the steps two at a time and then ran down the hall. My heart was pounding its way out of my chest by the time I reached Riley's room.

I didn't bother knocking, banging the door open without even thinking. I froze in the doorway. "Dear God . . ."

* * *

A/N: Told you the cliffies would pick up soon. I can't leave the story like this, now can I? Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry for the late update! I didn't intend to leave you guys hanging for so long! Thanks once again to all of my fabulous reviewers. You make writing so rewarding :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Riley or Ben. That's too good even for a dream ;)

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CHAPTER FIVE

_Ben_

For an instant, I couldn't move, frozen by the scene before me.

Riley was on his hands and knees on the floor, his arms trembling hard as he tried to hold himself up. He had a look of absolute panic on his face, and was gasping ineffectively. His lips were turning blue.

Horror welled up in me. This wasn't happening. It _couldn't_ be happening . . .

And then I shoved the stunned fear aside. _Help him. I've got to help him._

I quickly moved to his side, wrapping an arm around him and holding him up. "Riley," I said, my voice urgent but calm, "Cough, kid. Come on." I slapped him on the back, trying to get him to respond.

For a moment, nothing happened, and my already breaking control and calm began to slip. And then I could feel the cough starting in his chest. "That's it, Riley. Get it out. It's okay, kid."

His hand clutched desperately at the front of my T-shirt as his body strained, and finally, he coughed up a wad of phlegm and spat it on the floor. He immediately sucked in a huge breath and started coughing again, still gasping for air. "Try to slow your breathing down," I instructed. I began rubbing his back. "Hold it for a few seconds. In . . . and out."

Riley tried to comply, and after a few minutes, his breaths came more naturally, more calmly. All the tension drained out of his body, and he slumped down into my arms. My cool calmness broke, and all the terror and the shock crashed back over me. What if I had been too late? The thought was more than a little frightening.

I helped Riley sit all the way up. Tears of pain shone in his eyes, and his face was white. I could feel him shaking, and belatedly realized I was shaking, too.

"Riley," I said, "Riley . . ." That was all I could get out.

Riley's blue eyes met mine. He couldn't get _anything_ out.

We sat that way for a long moment, me listening to him breathe, Riley still clutching at my shirt and gulping in cool air. Finally, his fingers loosened, and he whispered, "Ben?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

I nodded. "I would say 'anytime,' but I really don't want this to happen again."

Riley smiled a tired, half-smile. "No worries. Neither do I." He started coughing, and the pain brought tears to his eyes again.

I felt sick, watching him suffer. "Riley, we can't wait until tomorrow. You need the hospital _now_."

I expected him to argue or to be upset, maybe, but he didn't protest. He just glanced up for a second and then sighed. "It _is_ tomorrow, Ben."

I blinked. Was that a consent? I wanted to feel relieved, but instead I was worried. He had to feel absolutely, unthinkably awful to give in like that. And I could see the vague fear in his eyes again.

"Okay. I'm going to get Abigail. Will you be okay for a second?"

"Yeah," he said, closing his eyes. I helped him lean up against the bed before I left the room, nearly running.

Pushing open the door of our room, I saw that Abigail was still asleep, undisturbed by Riley's calling or my mad dash out of bed. She looked so calm, and I wished I could leave her that way. But there was no time for sleeping, or even a gentle awakening.

"Abigail!" I said urgently, turning on the lights.

She rolled over, groaning and squeezing her eyes shut. "Ben, what time is it?" she asked sleepily. "What's going on?"

"Riley," I answered shortly.

She understood at once, sitting up with a look of horror on her face. "Oh, my—"

"No," I said, answering the question that was all over her face. "No, he's okay for now, but we've got to get going as fast as possible." As I spoke, I dug through the dresser and tossed her a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

We both got dressed as quickly as we could, not speaking until Abigail gave a strained little laugh. "Uh, Ben? Could I have one of _my_ shirts, please?"

I'd tossed her one of mine in my hurry, and she was probably thinking of what it would look like, her showing up in public in my shirt in the middle of the night. I hurriedly handed her something pink that definitely wasn't mine. "I'll get some cash and the cell phones," Abigail said, hurrying down the stairs. "And the keys, and—"

I was so happy Abigail wasn't the type of person to fall apart in a crisis. It reminded me how much I loved her. "I'll get Riley," I told her.

I hurried back down the stairs and through the hall, coming back into Riley's room to find him right where I'd left him. His eyes were closed as he coughed; he was not asleep but concentrating on breathing.

"Riley?" I asked hesitantly.

"Ben?" he replied.

"Here," I said, crossing the room and lifting his glasses off the bedside table. "You might need these." I grabbed one of the blankets off his bed and handed both things to him.

He pushed the glasses on, and I helped him drape the blanket over his shoulders. He looked absolutely miserable, and I had a feeling that it wasn't all from being sick. Riley was probably embarrassed and frustrated beyond reason, having to accept all this help. But there was nothing for it. The kid couldn't even walk without his knees buckling.

"Sorry," he whispered. It was something he'd been saying a lot recently.

"It's okay," I assured him, as I pulled his arm over my shoulder and supported his shaky steps. I couldn't believe he felt guilty about this. It _wasn't_ okay. None of this was even remotely okay.

Abigail already had the car warmed up and the back doors open by the time Riley and I made it to the garage. I helped him get in the back, and Abigail slipped in next to him.

Without hesitation, I got in the front seat and backed us out of the driveway. It was nowhere close to dawn, and the roads were practically deserted. I had never gone for a 3:00 am drive before, and it was almost eerie, how empty and dark everything was. Not to mention the silence.

The only audible thing besides the car engine was Riley's breathing and Abigail's voice as she spoke soothingly to him. I dangerously spent most of the drive watching them in the rearview mirror.

Riley's head rested on Abigail's shoulder, and she held one of his trembling hands in hers. However much they disagreed, argued, teased, and annoyed one another, it was obvious how much they cared about one another. How much we all cared. About Riley. About our little practically-family.

I pulled into the emergency room driveway and stopped the car. "We're here," I announced, and quickly came around to help Riley out. Abigail squeezed Riley's hand and then moved to the driver's seat to park the car.

"I'll be right up," she promised.

I nodded. It struck me once again how much I loved her. "Come on, Riley," I said, helping him up.

"Ben?" he asked around gasping breaths.

"Yes?"

"You won't leave, will you?" The look in his eyes was something between desperate and totally panicked. It pierced me right through.

"Of course not," I said firmly.

"Okay."

"Okay," I repeated. "You ready?"

"No," he said, "but let's go before I change my mind."

* * *

A/N: I wasn't really happy with the way this chapter turned out. It's like the way it was in my head didn't translate to paper or something. Still, it's an update, right? :) Review if you want another chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey, everyone! Here (finally) is my update! Thanks SO MUCH for all the reviews! I can't believe the response this story is getting . . . you people are officially amazing :)

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters from National Treasure. Or the plotline. Or anything, really. So it's pretty obvious that I make no money from this.

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CHAPTER SIX

_Riley_

Ben sat me down in a waiting room chair while he filled out some papers. I hated waiting rooms. People on the covers of week-old magazines smiled too happily at me, and I closed my eyes. My hands were grabbing the arms of the green vinyl chair so tightly that my knuckles were white, but I couldn't feel anything at all. Everything was a little out of focus, a little unreal. I guess I had the headache to blame for that. Or the pain in my chest. Or the panic attack I felt coming on. Whatever.

The nurse behind the desk, a woman who looked like someone's kindly old grandmother, kept glancing at me with this sympathetic expression. I half-expected her to come over with a plate of cookies and offer me one. Not that I would have been able to eat it. My stomach was considering revolting, and I hadn't eaten anything since noon. Yesterday.

To say I was nervous would be the understatement of all time. I was teetering on the edge of total panic, and I really didn't know how long I could maintain what was left of my self-control. I was trying really hard not to think about it: about where I was, about nightmares or memories or anything at all. I stared at my thumbnail, trying to remember the exact wording of the fifth chapter of my book, but I'd get halfway through the second sentence and forget how it went. I wondered if I was slowly losing it.

Ben came back to sit beside me. "You okay?" he asked, looking me straight in the eyes.

I coughed, and the pain ripped through my chest again. I would have given him a sarcastic reply, but my brain was so focused on trying to hold back the fear that I couldn't think of anything that complicated. "No," I croaked.

"You will be," Ben told me firmly. "This is going to be fine."

"Sure, Ben," I said, staring down at my fingers. Ben put his hand on my shoulder, and I looked back up at him. I felt more in control with him there. He just gave off this sense of calm, even in the worst situations.

"We won't have to wait long," Ben said.

I really didn't know if that added to or detracted from my panic. On one hand, there wasn't much time left before I ended up in front of a probing, poking, too-sterile doctor. On the other, the waiting was probably making things worse than they had to be. Much worse. Still, I couldn't help hoping someone would come in who was higher up on the priority list. Someone who actually needed to be here.

But when the doors opened again, it was just Abby. She sat down on the other side of me. "You okay?" she asked, sounding almost exactly like Ben.

This time, the sarcasm came without any thought at all. "Did you two decide on that phrase before bringing me here? I swear that's the only thing I've heard all night . . ." I laughed a little, but it sounded off. I really was losing it.

Ben and Abby glanced at each other, and I could tell they were thinking the same thing. I wished Abby would tell me to get a grip or something. At least that would make everything seem a little more normal. Anything was better than the worried expression she was wearing now.

The door down the hall opened, and a pretty nurse in pink scrubs came out with a clipboard. "Riley Poole?" she asked, in a voice that sounded like it belonged in a horror movie. You know, the slithery tone of something in the shadows just before a character disappears and is never seen again—unless it's in pieces or as something just as awful . . .

"Riley?" Ben asked. I realized this wasn't the first time he'd said my name. I tried to push away the thoughts.

"Riley Poole?" the nurse repeated. Her voice sounded normal now, and I took a deep breath. What was wrong with me?

Oh, right.

"Sorry," I told Ben, by way of explanation.

"It's okay. Don't think about it too much. You're just getting a check-up for now." Ben helped me get up, because I probably couldn't have made myself move otherwise. It was like all my joints had locked.

The nurse glanced between Ben and me. I could almost hear what she was thinking: _Aren't you old enough to come in by yourself?_

_I_ was even thinking that. And I knew the answer, too. _Nope. You _should_ be, but . . . nope._

Ben dragged me with him, and we followed the nurse down a long, white hallway. That was definitely near the top of my "why-I-hate-hospitals" list, how everything was blindingly white. White walls. White floors. White sheets.

It was too bright. Too clean. Like that was fooling anyone.

I stopped the thought before it could really settle in my mind. That was _so_ not where I wanted to go right now.

"Here we are," the nurse said. "Have a seat. The doctor will be in in a minute."

"Thanks," Ben told her, steering me to sit on the paper-covered bench. My head was throbbing, and I could hear myself breathing. It sounded bad. And too fast. Ben noticed. "Hey, calm down," he said.

"Can't," I gasped. "Ben . . .!"

It was like the first time. All of a sudden, it was like the air wasn't getting to me. I was gasping, trying to breathe, but it wasn't working. I felt lightheaded, and the fear was making it worse. Suffocating . . . no air . . .

"Cough!" Ben's voice was there, and his hand was slapping my back. I tried, and something came loose. I spat out a mouthful of crud, not even caring how disgusting that was. Gulping air, I started coughing again. Cough, breathe. Cough, breathe. For a second, that was all there was.

Then everything slowly came back into focus. Ben was practically holding me up, and his worried face was the first thing I saw. The second thing was the other person who had come into the room. The doctor.

I decided I had no more energy for the right amount of fear. That was good, at least. I guess I didn't really care what happened to me at that point. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.

Ben and the doctor talked for a second. Since I was practically asleep—again—I only caught bits of what they were saying. Something about symptoms and stuff.

"Riley, open your eyes," Ben said softly.

I did, and the doctor's face came into focus. He was smiling in a friendly way. "I'm Doctor Steele," he said. "I'm guessing you didn't hear me say that earlier."

"Good guess," I replied. I decided pretty quickly that Dr. Steele looked more like a pro football player than a doctor. His forearms were bigger around than my biceps, and his dark brown skin was pulled tightly over the muscles. I wondered how he found shirts that fit.

"I'm just going to run a few tests," he said, like it was no big deal. I got the feeling Ben had warned him about how little I liked doctors or hospitals. He checked my temperature, blood pressure, heartbeat, and listened to my lungs.

"Pneumonia," he finally announced. "Bacterial, most likely. I'll have to run chest x-rays, and take a blood sample." He turned to Ben. "We're probably going to have to keep him here for a few days. This is pretty serious. Oxygen's not getting to his body the way it should. See his fingers . . ."

I felt the numb calm that had come over me drain away. Stay? Here? _Days?_

". . . skin is too white, almost blue . . ."

I looked at Ben. He must have seen the panic in my eyes. "It's okay, Ri," he said quietly.

Dr. Steele glanced between us. "I'll give you a second. Have to go set up anyway . . ." He slipped out of the room in a surprisingly inconspicuous way, considering how huge he was.

"Ben, I can't," I said, louder than I intended. "They can just get me the meds, and we can leave. We can. I'll take them. You won't even have to force me. I'll even let Abigail mother me. I'll do everything you say. Lie on the couch and eat chicken soup and organize your library for you when I'm better." The words poured out of me. _Please, please, please, Ben. Don't leave me here._

Ben sat beside me, his serious eyes locking with mine. "Listen to me, Riley," he said. His voice made it impossible to do anything else. "You can do this. I know it won't be easy. But please, Ri, I can't let you leave. You're sicker than I've ever seen anyone. I can't let this get any worse. I _won't_. You're too important."

I felt tears sting my eyelids. It was pathetic. Stupid. But I couldn't control it. Why did Ben have to go sentimental on me now?

"I don't know exactly what's going on with you, but I'm here, okay? And I won't leave."

"Okay," I said.

"Okay," Ben repeated. "You'll be fine."

I wished that was true.

* * *

A/N: Another chapter I wasn't too pleased with sigh. But the next one is better; it's the one where you guys will finally get your answers. So . . . if you're ready to find out the story behind Riley's phobias . . . REVIEW! ;)


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Finally, the chapter you've all been waiting for! Though it is not the last, it hopefully starts wrapping things up. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I know I sound like a broken record, but you guys are amazing!

Disclaimer: I don't think Riley or Ben would WANT to be owned by me, since I spend my stories torturing them. So it's probably a good thing I don't *grins*

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CHAPTER SEVEN

_Ben_

The sun had come up outside, and a little natural light was struggling through the window. With a yawn and a stretch, I stood up for the first time in a few hours to go look out over the parking lot. It was amazing how uncomfortable the chairs were. Riley would probably say it was on purpose, so that no one ever overstayed their visiting hours. He'd probably be right. Except for that I was still here.

When one of the nurses had suggested that I come back during proper visiting hours, I'd told her on no uncertain terms that I wasn't leaving. She might have argued, except that she saw the effect that her words had on Riley. I didn't even want to think about that.

Rubbing my eyes, I hoped Abigail would be back soon. She'd gone to get a few things from the house and hopefully to find us some breakfast that had a little more flavor than hospital food. And maybe coffee. That would be good, if I was expected to function at all during the daylight hours.

With a sigh, I returned to my chair beside Riley's bed. I'd been watching him sleep for a few hours, relieved that he had finally relaxed enough to get some rest. When they'd been putting the IVs in, he'd been almost catatonic, staring up at the ceiling and not responding to anything I'd said. That was one of the most frightening parts of this whole ordeal, almost worse than the panic. He'd finally fallen asleep sometime around five am, and hadn't woken since.

The meds in the drip were obviously doing their job. I could see how much better he looked today; there was more color in his face, and his fever was gone. Now that that was out of the way, all I had to worry about was Riley's mental state. Only thing was, that was about ninety percent of the problem.

Suddenly, Riley's eyes scrunched up and he groaned. He would have rolled over and accidentally yanked the needles out of his arm if I hadn't grabbed his shoulder. Slowly, his blue eyes opened. They were clearer than they had been in a while. "Ben?" he said.

"Hey, kid," I replied, trying to goad him into his typical reaction. I smiled when it worked.

"I'm not a kid," he complained. "Where are my glasses?"

"I've got them," I said, handing them over. "So," I continued, after he'd settled his glasses on the bridge of his nose, "how do you feel?"

"Awful. This is like the starchiest set of sheets I've ever touched. I think I might break them if I move."

"That's not exactly what I meant," I told him, but I smiled, glad that he was joking again.

Riley coughed, and I could still hear the congestion in his chest. But there was no pain on his face. "Better," he said, almost like he was surprised.

"Good."

Riley sighed. "Just say it, Ben."

"Say what?" I asked.

"'I told you so.'" Riley's voice was matter-of-fact.

I grinned. "Why should I say that?"

"Because you were right."

I blinked. "Huh. Actually, hearing you say that was all the satisfaction I need."

"Crap. I must really be out of it, to let you win that easily." Riley smiled, but it was too forced to be real. I could see the thinly veiled fear in his eyes. And the pain he was trying so hard to hide. I think he knew what was coming.

I finally asked him the question.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

_Riley_

"So. You want to talk about it?"

The abrupt change in the conversation didn't stagger me. It was just Ben's nature: getting straight to the point. Still, I was pretty much dead set on the fact that I didn't want to explain anything, especially my panic attack earlier.

"About being trapped in this lousy hospital, or about me freaking out?" I asked, but I knew which one it was. I guess I had known since I saw the expression on Ben's face the night of the Cibola exhibit's opening that this was coming.

"The 'freaking out'," Ben qualified.

"Then no, I really don't want to talk," I answered honestly.

"Riley, something's bothering you. Don't think I haven't noticed how much you hate hospitals. And I'm not just talking about this time, in case you're wondering. You've been like this ever since I've known you."

I swallowed hard. "Ben, I—well, I really don't want to talk about it, okay?"

Ben's determined expression softened a little. "Riley, you're my best friend. Actually, you're more like my brother. I just want to know what's going on with you."

The tears jabbed at my eyeballs with renewed intensity. _You have __**so**__ chosen the wrong time to go sentimental on me, Ben. I was already close to losing it._ "It's really not that complicated," I choked out, "but I don't know if I can talk about it."

"Will you try?"

The expression on Ben's face was so concerned that I couldn't just ignore him. "Yeah, but . . . yeah." I closed my eyes for a second, trying to decide how to start.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

_Ben_

"Do you know anything about my parents, Ben?" Riley hadn't opened his eyes; his face was screwed up like he was in pain.

"No," I said, my tone gentle. I wondered where this was going.

"My dad, he was . . . sometimes he would . . . get really mad." Riley opened his eyes for a second, and quickly, almost defensively, said, "I mean, he never, _ever_ touched my mom or my sister or me, but he would break stuff, and once he even chucked our T.V. out the second-story window."

I took all this in without a word, even though a hundred different emotions and questions were building up in my mind. Riley _needed_ to talk about this.

"My mom was scared that sometime he might, you know . . . so, one night, when I was eleven, and he came home drunk, my mom just grabbed Jenna and me and stuck us in the car. And we got on the highway."

Riley stopped, and I could see the tears pooling under his eyelids. I rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he took a deep, rattling breath. "So, my mom wasn't really being all that observant, because she was so upset. I remember she was crying . . ."

There was another lengthy pause, but I knew that Riley needed to get all of this out at once, or he never would. Finally, he continued, "So this car going in the opposite direction swerved out of its lane a little and into ours, and . . . we crashed. Our car was totally crushed, and somehow I got on the floor, trapped under the passenger seat. It was dark, and really small, and . . . and I could hear my little sister . . . she was screaming, Ben, and I couldn't help her . . ."

I felt sick, but I had to let the kid finish.

"I think I passed out or something, but I sort of remember getting pulled out of the car and getting loaded up in the ambulance." Riley shivered a little, and skipped ahead. "When I woke up again, I was in the hospital. At first it was like I was only partway there, you know? Everyone was really careful about what they said to me. And then when I was about to go crazy not knowing, a doctor told me that my mom and sister were . . ."

_Dead_. The unspoken word hung in the air.

"My dad never even came to see me. I don't know where he is now, if he's even still . . ."

Riley didn't have to finish. I was already hugging him, being as careful as I could. "I'm sorry, Riley," I whispered. "I'm so sorry." I could feel the sobs shaking him, and just held him there for a long moment.

Finally, he gained control of himself and pulled away, wiping at his swollen, blue eyes. "Sorry, Ben."

_Sorry?_ "Riley, don't apologize. You don't have to. You _never _have to. You're my best friend, and I want to know what's going on with you. No matter what it is."

Riley nodded. "Thanks, Ben. You're—you're awesome."

I smiled a little.

"I guess this explains a lot about me," he said, staring at the ceiling. "Like why I _hate_ hospitals. Like why I can't stand crowds or all those tunnels you drag me around in. Like—"

"Like why you leave your lights on at night?" I suggested, trying to make my tone teasing.

"Yeah. I'm just like a little kid, scared of the dark. I should just give in and buy a nightlight." Riley gave me that quirky little half-smile, so I couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"You know, Abigail put a nightlight in our bathroom. And she always leaves the door cracked, so that it's not totally dark in our room."

"No way. _Abigail_ is scared of the dark?" Riley grinned deviously.

"Hey, you didn't hear that from me," I said seriously. I had the feeling that Abigail wouldn't react well if she found out I'd told Riley about the nightlight. But I felt that the benefits outweighed the risks here. Riley was distracted, and I could survive another lecture from Abigail. Probably.

Riley looked at me, giving me the first genuine smile I'd seen from him in a long time. He knew what I was doing. "Thanks, Ben."

"No problem," I said. And I felt like it was true. There was nothing more to worry about right now, not yet. For a moment, everything was absolutely and totally—

"Awesome!" Riley exclaimed. "Look at this, Ben! This dump gets HBO!"

I smiled. Yep. _Awesome._

* * *

A/N: So, good or bad? Please let me know! Only one more chapter to go!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Well, here it is, everybody! The last chapter! Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed. You are all awesome!

Disclaimer: Nope. However much I wish for it, none of these characters are mine. They belong to the people at Disney.

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CHAPTER EIGHT

_Ben_

I must have dozed off again, because I had to open my eyes when I felt a light touch on my elbow. I blinked, confused for a second, until my gaze finally focused on Riley.

"What's the matter, kid?" I asked.

"I'm not a kid," Riley protested. Then he smiled. "You were about to fall out of your chair. Thought I'd give you some warning."

"Thanks," I said, readjusting my position to a safer one for sleeping.

"Um, Ben?" Riley said, just as I closed my eyes again.

"Hmm?"

"I think it's time you got to bed. Like, a real bed."

"What?" I asked, not opening my eyes. There was not enough coffee in the world to keep me going at this point. I'd been half-asleep for a while now, and it was making everything really confusing.

Riley sighed, like he was explaining something to a two-year-old. "Go home and sleep, Ben. I'll still be here in the morning."

_That_ got through. My eyes snapped open, and I sat up. "Riley, it's okay. I don't mind—"

Riley interrupted me. "I know you don't. But I'm fine. You don't have to stay."

I stared at him for a whole second. If he was feeling guilty again, I was going to hit him. None of this was his fault, and I didn't mind staying another night. What was one more night in an uncomfortable chair compared to a happy Riley? Nothing. "Really, it's not a big deal. It's not like I've never done this before."

Riley rolled his eyes. "I _know_, Ben, but seriously, you should get some real sleep. You're starting to look like a zombie. And I'm talking _scary zombie_ here, not corny 1930s zombie."

"Thanks very much," I said, laughing a little. Why was that so funny? I must really have been tired.

"Go home, Ben," Riley said, grinning like he was thinking the same thing.

I stared into his eyes for a long moment. I could find nothing there to suggest he wasn't okay. He didn't look nervous or guilty or even reluctant. He was just very . . . _Riley_. But I still had to ask. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Very slowly, I stood up. "You'll call me if you need anything, right? I'll be right here."

"Yeah."

I grabbed my jacket, moving at sloth-speed. "I'll come in as soon as visiting hours start, okay?"

"Yeah."

"You'll be okay?"

"Yeah."

"And if—"

"Ben?" Riley interrupted. "I get the picture, okay?" He gave me a very genuine smile. "Thanks."

"No problem. But seriously, if you need—"

"Go on, Ben."

"Bye, Riley. See you tomorrow."

"Bye."

()()()()()()()()()()()()

Riley checked out of the hospital two days later, looking a thousand times better than he had when we'd brought him in. I'd driven his Ferrari to the parking lot, hoping to surprise him by letting him drive home. Abigail was waiting back at the house with a chocolate cake, Riley's favorite.

And I was getting the chewing out of my life.

"Ben! This is _my car_. You're not supposed to drive _my car_, even to surprise me, even to take me to the ER, even take me out for ice cream. _My car_! Seriously!"

"Riley—"

"You could have scratched the paint! You could have hit something! How'd you find the keys, anyway? You've been in my room, too! What about my laptop?"

"Riley—"

"Nope. There's no way you can talk yourself out of this one. _You drove my car_!"

And there was nothing I could say to that.

His mood improved as he drove, though, as I'd known it would. I'd won this argument, as far as I was concerned. And Riley was back to normal. That was the best part.

Riley pulled into the driveway, narrowly avoiding the mailbox. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. "_I_ could have hit something, huh?" I teased.

"Not funny, Ben. And I'm still not talking to you."

I couldn't keep from laughing that time.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

_Riley_

Abigail was waiting for us in the kitchen, and he pulled me into a tight hug when I walked in.

"Ow. Abigail, _ow_," I said, as she crushed the air out of my lungs. But I let her hold on a second longer. It was kind of nice, in a painful way.

"I'm so glad you're better, Riley," she said, finally letting go.

"That makes two of us," I said with a grin.

"Three," Ben said, tossing his jacket over the back of a kitchen chair.

"I'm still not talking to you, Ben," I told him.

"Good. Some peace and quiet might be nice," he replied, grinning. I glared at him.

Abigail laughed. "So, how about some cake?"

That got my attention. "You made cake? What kind? Chocolate?"

"What other kind is there?" she asked, unveiling a two-layer masterpiece covered in chocolate frosting. I could have kissed her, except that Ben would probably have decked me.

The three of us sat down at the kitchen table and had a slice of cake. Actually, I had _two_ slices, and seriously considered going back for thirds.

"Don't forget your meds," Abby prompted.

"Ugh," I complained. If this was her new way of getting me to take pills, I wasn't going to go down without a fight. "So you think that bribing me with cake makes it okay to mother me? That is seriously sadistic. Tell her that's sadistic, Ben."

"What, you're talking to me now?" Ben said, amusement in his voice.

Why did everything like that have to backfire? _Fine. Have it your way, Ben._ "Abigail, Ben told me you sleep with a nightlight."

I watched Abigail's face turn an interesting shade of pink; Ben's expression was almost scared. This was sweet. I'd gotten both of them at once.

"I do _not_! Ben, how could you—!" Abigail started, at a painful volume.

"Riley!" Ben said loudly.

I was laughing helplessly by now. Both of them turned to look at me at exactly the same moment, like in a bad sitcom. I hugged my sides, laughing harder.

Finally, they couldn't hold back their amusement any more. Abigail cracked a smile and Ben started laughing with me.

My laugh eventually turned into a cough, and I had to cut it out. Ben handed me a glass of water. "Thanks," I said, still grinning. I hoped he knew it wasn't just for the water. I was feeling so much better than I had in a long time. And not just because I wasn't sick anymore, either.

Ben got it, like he always did. "No problem, Riley. What're friends for?"

I thought about it for a second. "Well, they're _not_ for driving my Ferrari," I said, "but they are pretty much the best thing that ever happened to me."

* * *

A/N: Well, that's it . . . So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Please tell me what you think by pressing the review button (which is now green, yay)! If you have any suggestions on what I should write next, I'd love to hear them!


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